Apocalypse Aftermath (69 page)

“It’s not like I left the ones
for the seven foot tall guy who’s in shape and brought you the ones for the seven foot wide guy.” she said, reddening a little.

“I’m not seven feet tall.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Guess I’ll have to gain some weight if I want these to fit.” he grinned.

“Or, we could take them in with some stitches.” she sniffed, gesturing at the basket of sewing material she’d left on one of the dressers.

“I told you, my sewing is pretty bad.”

Jessica shrugged.  “So’s mine.”

“
I’m shocked a modern woman like you even learned to sew at all; badly or otherwise.  Doesn’t that offend the national sisterhood of female empowerment?”

“Now wait a minute.” she protested, giving him a mischievous look.  “I took home-ec in school, and I even
almost remember some of it.  My mom made me, thought it wasn’t right if I didn’t get a grounding in what she called ‘the basics’ of being a wife.  That’s my excuse.  How did you, big tough he-man Army Ranger, manage to pick up sewing?”

Austin laughed.  “Same reason, except the wife part.  My mom insisted I take it, and made my dad shut up when he objected to his boys learning
what he called ‘women’s work’.  But I passed.”

Jessica
got up and limped over to the basket.  Pulling a needle and thread out, she tossed the spool at him.  “This I’ve gotta see.”

“Sure you don’t want to help me out?”

“No, you said you know, so you give it a go.  I’m going to be busy with Candice’s clothes.”

“I’ve got clothes.” Candice pointed out.

“Yes, and you’ve been wearing them for two days now.  I’m going to see if I can’t get some of these others modified so you can wear them too.  You need at least two outfits for when I finally get the chance to wash things.” Jessica told her daughter.  “Can’t have you wandering around looking like a scarecrow, or draped in a towel.”

“You given any thought to what the next move is?” Austin asked as she picked out another needle and thread.

“I still think the food downstairs should last us at least another five days, even the way you eat.” she began.

“I was shot.” he grinned.

“So you keep telling me.” she grinned back.  “Which is why I want to rest here maybe four more days.  Then I thought we’d drag all three hundred pounds of you downstairs and stuff you back in the SUV, along with whatever useful supplies we can come up with, and go looking for another house.  One with more food.  We’ll squat there and rest some more until we’re low on food again, then repeat the process.”

“That’s your plan?”

“That’s my plan.” Jessica confirmed.

“Sure there’ll be another house?”

“Moderately.  But if there’s not, we’ve still got gas, and I’ll find some more at a station somewhere if necessary.  There’s still half a tank right now, which should be enough to find either food or gas.”

“Better bring a bucket, and some rope or something.” Austin advised.

“Whatever it takes.” she shrugged.  “I figure, with any luck, a few weeks will see you a little more on your feet than you are now.”

“I told you I’ve taken bullets before, so I’ve got an idea how long I’m going to be on my a—off my feet.” Austin said seriously.

“So how long?”

“Probably the better part of two months, maybe three.” he admitted.

“Great.” Jessica sighed.  “Well, there’s nothing for it.  Better to be safe than sorry.  If you rip something inside where we can’t get at it with a bandage, there’s not much we can do to fix that.  You take it easy and we’ll wait for nature to do the work.”

“What then?”

Jessica gave him a look.  “Honestly, I don’t know yet.  But is there any point in planning that far ahead?”

“Thanks for sticking with me.” Austin said.

Jessica hesitated, then put her hands in her lap and focused on him.  “I was going to say the same to you.”  Even hurt, Austin was helpful.  He had advice and knowledge about things like the wood for the grill, which Jessica wasn’t sure she would’ve thought of in a timely fashion.  She was just too suburban, though she was starting to wrap her head around this new, and necessary, scrabble and grab way of existing.

And he was going to heal.  She knew it.  He had no detectable infection, and while the bullet wounds were ugly, they weren’t bleeding.  If he’d had major internal damage, she figured he would have been in real trouble by now.  If she could kept him fed and off his feet, he’d recover.

That would give her a backup for Candice.  Jessica was clinging to that with all her might.  She was still terrified of something happening to her that would leave the girl alone.  Even though she didn’t have any other options, she was still quite confident Austin would see the girl through this no matter what might happen to Jessica.

And she was starting to grow more than merely fond of the big man.  He had a way about him that was more than reassuring, more than useful.  In some ways, he reminded her of Brett.

“Wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave me somewhere.  I eat more than you and girlie-girl here combined.” Austin said calmly, breaking into her thoughts.  Jessica shook herself mentally and shrugged casually as her daughter spoke.

“We’re not leaving you!” Candice said anxiously, but her eyes darted to her mother on the rising note at the end of
the sentence.

“We’re not leaving Austin anywhere.” Jessica confirmed.

“I’m just saying—” he began, but she interrupted him.

“I’m calling the shots.” Jessica said.  “And that goes for after you’re up and around again.  I think we’re a good team, but I’m through following someone else’s lead.
” 
“Especially since that came this close to getting Candice and me killed, or worse.”
she thought.  Keeping the dark notion off her face and out of her tone, she shrugged lightly.  “Why don’t we just start with food and healing, then see what happens.”

Austin gave her a very serious look, but there was something a little more in the back of his eyes.  She found herself drawn to that something, and reminded herself after a moment that Candice was in the room.  “Work on those clothes. 
Make yourself useful while you’re laying around.” she said mischievously.

“This thread doesn’t
match the overalls.” Austin replied, that look still carefully hidden in the back of his gaze..

Jessica pointed a finger at him.  “Shush.  Like you really care what it looks like anyway.”

He shrugged.  “Thought you might.”

Jessica ignored the light tint heating up her cheeks.  “Maybe, but
let’s just worry about the basics first and go from there.”

Austin pulled the needle from the spool and started trying to find the end of the thread.  “Now you’re getting it.”
he said with a wink.

Darryl faced the group of people in the clubhouse’s back yard squarely, his shoulders held firm and solid despite his grief.  Dr. Early had been wrong about Tia – she’d pulled through – but everyone else he’d thought wouldn’t make it had died.  The others were recovering.  They were still weak and couldn’t take more than simple broth or pieces of hard candy, but they were alive and healing.  The doctor thought they’d be up and around in a few days, and in a week they’d be fine.

Two kids and two brothers, dead because someone forgot to make sure the water
they were drinking and washing food in was clean.  Darryl had told EZ to stop asking questions about it.  Pointing fingers and singling someone out wouldn’t just be hard to do without making sure it was the right person who’d made the mistake; it would do nothing to help.

Everyone knew it had been bad water, and everyone knew how to make sure it didn’t happen again.  Boil all water, and add chlorine.  Thanks to Jody, they had plenty of cleaning supplies.  Darryl didn’t think even she had guessed how valuable the bleach would turn out to be, but now they knew and could avoid a repeat of the tragic mistake.

That was what was important.  Even though he really wanted to rage and roar until someone admitted the fatal error, so he could lay a beating on them until his hands gave out and he couldn’t lift his arms for another rblow, Darryl knew it wouldn’t help.  And it wasn’t what Bobo would do.

“We got four more Dogz to bury today.” Darryl said finally.  “Them two kids ain’t patched, but that don’t mean they weren’t Dogz.  We all Dogz now.  We all in this together, just like Bobo been saying since all this shit started.  We here because we gonna make it through.  Because we gonna make sure we stay strong.  That everyone’s job, staying strong so we all strong together.

“It ain’t gonna be easy.  We done some hard work and some hard things, and there gonna be plenty more of both, but we gonna pull together and get through all of it.  Watkinsville loaned us a doctor, but they was starving to death before we went and got them the food they needed.  They ten times as many as we is, but they needed us.  They gonna be needing us again.  Because we strong and they know it.

“Shit gonna happen.  Sometime every day.  Sometime maybe every hour.  Whatever it is, wherever it happen, we gonna deal and keep going.  That the job, and we gonna do it.  Tell me why?”

“Because we Dogz.” EZ said loudly.

“Yeah, we Dogz.” Tank echoed.

“Damn straight.  We the Dogz and we strong.  Ain’t none of us need to know anything else.  You ever wonder if it gonna work out, you just remember that.  That all you need to believe.  We in this together, and that why it gonna work.  We making it through this.  We gonna survive.  Together.”

Darryl
gestured to Mr. Soul, then turned to the side and looked at the graves as the old preacher began speaking.  Four new holes had been dug next to where Ratboy, Ape, Hooligan, the kids, and Shirley had been laid to rest; who had all already died because they’d turned into zombies or been bitten by one.  In the four new ones lay the two latest dead children, and Fish, and Bobo.  Dead because of the zombie apocalypse.  Not by zombie teeth directly, but because of them.  The newly dead were almost peaceful as they lay in the holes, their hands folded across their chests.

Stepping over to them, Darryl took his pocket knife out and put the blade into his hand.  Pulling sharply down a few inches, he ignored the pain as the edge creased his palm.  He opened his hand enough to clear the blade, then squeezed his fist over the first grave waiting to be covered up.  “Take care blood.” he said softly as the drops fell
on Bobo’s chest.

“All I’m saying is we should think about it.” Smith said.

“I’m not disagreeing.” Peter shrugged as he looked at the bodies laying motionless in the Publix parking lot.  There had to be more than fifty, and while most of them looked as abused as most zombies usually did, he could only hope they’d all been zombies when they were killed.  At least he didn’t see any weapons scattered around, which might have argued for a more mundane, human-versus-human, conflict.

Or it just argued for smart winners, who’d picked clean their victims after victory.

“So what’s the problem?”

“They’ve only had a week just to get used to walking the perimeter and basic marksmanship.” Crawford objected as she steered the Humvee around a wandering zombie in the road.

“Yeah, but every time we run a check they’re all doing their jobs.  They get it.  So it’s time to expand the training.”

“Some are still struggling to deal with the emotional shock of the situation.” Peter pointed out.  “We go pointing out they could find themselves shooting at people and that might tip some of them over the edge.”

“So we replace them.” Smith shrugged.

“There’s a limit to how many useful bodies that can be pressed into service as defenders.”

“Better to be ready, right?  And to find out now who can’t hack it?”

“How likely is it for some group to roll in and take on such a big camp?” Crawford asked.

“You want to wait and find out?”

“I’m just saying there are still plenty of easier targets, even close to Cumming.”

“Gunny, it’s just insurance.”

Peter nodded.  “I know.  You don’t have to sell me on the concept.  But Crawford’s not entirely wrong either.  It’s going to be tough for some of them to get their heads around.  Shooting zombies is one thing.  Shooting people is something else entirely.”  He
glanced over his shoulder at Smith.  “You should get that; I know you deployed to Afghanistan for a tour before things started pulling back over there.  How many in your unit had adjustment issues when it got real?”

Smith frowned, but he nodded reluctantly.  Peter shrugged.
  He’d seen it before, even in Marines who were super gung-ho through years of peacetime training.  One bloody firefight and some would find it wasn’t as fun as they’d thought it would be when the death was real.  “That’s the real problem.  Zombies are real, are scary, but dealing with them from behind a fence isn’t the same as getting shot at.  Or as shooting at people.”